Day 4 of NaPoWriMo. This is a spontaneous, on going, poem about Jane, and her Fools journey.

~

She knew her name,
common among the abandoned
and runaway lost.
She forgot that it mattered
If it ever mattered till now
And if it had, would the memory
be candied sweetness or
layered in spikes and blades
with more of the ceaseless lonely
in this sea of other nameless
from the Lost?

The Bench ripple down her spine
A forgotten comfort, a familiar
longing, her skin flexed in
recognition, a silent welcome
followed by a far away voice
“Jane,
Jane,
Jane”
A long ago came tumbling in
with the coral sky swallowing the Sun
to the other side for that awakening.
Eyes open wide to the coming of night
Held to a singular beaming planet,
a radiant spike of light drives down
strikes her between the eyes.
Her breath taken from her
filling up on the blind of luminance
“Jane,
Jane
Jane can you hear me?”

Day 3 of NaPoWriMo… my on going quest to write a poem/story, adding some made up bit every day, cause I can and it feels delightfully like a foolish thing to do. Us Fools do like to Jump in, after all.

The gift of the Bench… an awakening A Journey. 3 April 2017

There would be no explaining this.
Pressed deep into the wooden bench
Letting the wind tease at her edges
Letting the trickle of wet trace her cheek
Letting the smell of grass and root
weave their way passed the senseless
life so void of living, when her lungs
are filled with bird songs, her ears
held to the music of grass giggling,
and her closed eyes taking the Sun
as her lover.

There would be no explaining this
hyper sensual, elemental, out of body, and
back in again with repeat.
Laying witness to the forgotten
brought back in for remembering.
The tremble of the Universe filling her up.
Exposing the DNA of infinite connection.
Oh No…
Not in a city lost to any noticing of
the nature of this nature lost.

The hug of Verdancy, with her long
fingers and long ago memory
of a forever of Seasons changing,
wrapped tenderness around this Fool.
She fluttered in her consciousness calming
the split of her world in the abyss of clarity
Called out in a silent exhale, ‘Wake Up.”

A spell cast, a spell broken, on a park bench,
in this city of empty, on this April Fools day.
where stories of magic and earth wisdom
soaked deep into that bench wood of oak
with a thousand Foolish days that waited
for her to pause, lay down, and listen.
It had waited for Jane14.

A 30 day poem about The Fool’s journey. Can I do it? Stay with me an see. Feel free to give suggestions what Foolish might do or Not.

This picture is when I was in Germany. I was in a ‘crypt’. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to do this. It’s as close to a park bench of a picture I have.

~

A Fools Journey. 2 April 2017

Weary go the Days unattended
In the drone of beige and shadow
Eyes open, eyes shut to the ticktock
In the ‘it-doesn’t-matter-anyway’
A heart yearning for all that matters.
In a sunrise of possibilities
Purpose caves to the drab of sameness
~
Is not a Fool known to tend the fire
of surprise in the unexpected?
To poke at the skin of life ?
Leap into the known unknown?
Tumble the Joyless in to laughter?
Inspire the disheartened to wake up?
Jump into the void?
Embrace the untouchable?
Splay open the day in sudden abandon?
Show the way to foolish rapture?
~
Foolish lays on the park bench
While Spring dances on her frown
And Sun fires her closed eyes
She inhales at the edges
of the crumbles of her fate
That is no Fate at all for the fearless
She takes in the loss of her Way
That like fate is no good way at all.

I am attempting to tell a poetry story in 30 days about the Fool. Perhaps it is a bit foolish of me to attempt such a foolish excursion into poetry. Join me and see. comment if you will. I’d like that.

Collaborative conversations with Life's wise whispers. James Wells is honoured to offer tarot consultations and circle process hosting/training (enhanced, at times, with other tools & modalities). To book personal appointments and group experiences, contact James at circleways.james@gmail.com